


Mein Liebling

by lehnshxrrs



Series: dumb stuff for alex [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, charles runs out of drugs basically, plane scene? plane scene, this is for alex basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lehnshxrrs/pseuds/lehnshxrrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically, Charles' treatment wears off when he and Erik are yelling each in the plane during DOFP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mein Liebling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evanstans (sorrylovebut)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrylovebut/gifts).



Erik _knew_ something was up with Charles, given that he looked like he hadn't touched his hair in ten years and that when Erik first saw him, Charles' pupils were wide like he'd spent a great amount of time in the dark. By the time they board the plane, Charles is limping and very valiantly trying to hide it.

So when the question of 'what the hell, how are you walking' comes up, Erik's a little furious to think that Charles wants to _hide_ for god's sake.

"You gave up your powers so you could walk?" He seethes and feels a little vindictive glee when Charles flinches a little.

"I gave them up so I could s-sleep." Charles answers quietly, flinching again. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

"I've lost my fair share," Erik answers quietly. Charles never had any trouble sleeping with him, but he won't say that.

Charles huffs. "Oh, dry your eyes Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done."

What _Erik's_ done. A flash, Charles laying limp on the beach, and Erik feels the metal closest to him buzz as he gets angrier, guiltier.

"You have no idea what I've done," Erik spits, closing his hands into fists. Charles does the same, but around his thighs like a test.

"I know you took the things that mean the most to me." Charles says, frowning.

"Well maybe," Erik seethes, "You should've fought harder for them."

"Erik, if you want to fight I will give you a fight!" Charles spits, standing up suddenly. Dimly, Erik hears himself wave Logan off, but mostly he's swallowed in how close Charles is, after all this time, but then Charles is yelling in his face and he starts to pay attention.

"You abandoned me! You took her away and you-" Charles legs crumple underneath him, and Erik's hands automatically curl around Charles' hips to catch him.

"Charles?" Erik asks carefully, and Charles cries out, closing his hands around his ears. Charles is looking past Erik's shoulder, blue eyes filling with tears. Erik knows that look. The first few times they went out to recruit new mutants, the CIA had put them in shady motels where you could still practically see the police tape on the floor. Charles would always flinch suddenly, a hand to his ear although no sound had been made, and turn to Erik with the same look he has now. Someone would have to be in crippling pain for Charles to shake and cry like this, but Erik suspects it's Charles being able to hear the thoughts as his legs go.

_Charles,_ he sends as softly as he can, and blue eyes snap to his, looking slightly crazed. "It's ok Charles," he says gently, half aware that Logan has gotten up to get Hank.

"S-so many voices," Charles whimpers, pressing his hands over his ears like it will help. His legs are still wobbling with the effort of trying to keep him upright.

_Then listen to mine,_ Erik pleads, sending Charles the memory of them playing chess at the Lincoln Monument. Charles relaxes a little, eyes focused on Erik. Erik tries again, sending Charles the smile Erik remembers when Charles won. Hank puts the plane in autopilot and starts digging through Charles' bag. Charles is barely blinking now, the bow of his lips parted as he himself starts to clumsily dig through Erik's happiest memories, eyebrows arching when nearly all of them include Charles: the time they'd curled up in the library after a game of chess, the kiss Erik would press to Charles' temple before drifting to sleep, the last Hanukkah he spent with his mother, the times where he would pin Charles to a wall by his watch or cuff links and kiss him breathless, the broken German that Charles had tried to recite for Erik one night-

"Erik?" Hank asks quietly, trying not to disturb Charles from his trance. "I need you to pull his arm down." Charles' hands have slipped off his ears by now, but now they're curled in Erik's shirt, elbows bent too far for Hank to push a needle in. As much as Erik hates it, he understands Charles will need his legs for this, and he knows he doesn't want Charles rifling around his plans for too long. Erik pulls Charles' wrist down to open up his arm by his watch. The same damn watch, he notes, both elated that Charles still wears it and filled with regret at the time he's wasted without Charles. Hank rolls up Charles' sleeve and pushes the needle filled with yellow liquid into the crease of his elbow, injects it before Charles can even wince.

Erik wishes the effect was instantaneous, so he wouldn't have to watch as Charles' pupils widen slowly, his legs steadying as his hands slip off of Erik's shirt limply.

Hank gently pushes Charles back into his seat and goes back to the cockpit with a quiet murmur of, "That should last him."

Charles, like this, is both upsetting and fascinating, two opposites that shouldn't mix so well. His eyes are dark and he blinks slowly, infrequently. His lips are parted again, head lolled to the right like he's too damn high to even hold it up. Erik wishes, distantly, that Charles didn't have to sacrifice his powers or his sleep to get the other. Erik wishes Charles could walk, he wishes he would've let the bullet go into the sand instead of at Charles. The plane tilts dangerously in Erik's own self-hatred, and Charles, who has gotten up for a drink, falls against the windows with little more than a surprised gasp.

"Erik!" Hank calls irritably from the cockpit, and Charles, damn him, is just clinging to the luggage rack, that same dazed look now focused on Erik. He can't believe it, can't believe his Charles, his brilliant and clever and sweet and hopelessly beautiful Charles, has turned into little more than a homeless looking drunk. He can't believe it's his fault, and it is all his fault, he's the one who curved the damn bullet, he's the one who got locked up, he's the one who left his Charles broken on a beach in Cuba to turn into this shell of Charles.

"Erik!" Hank shouts, more urgently, and Erik snaps out of it, letting the plane and Charles settle back level. Charles just lays there a second, splayed across the seats in a daze, and Erik clenches his teeth together. He's not going to think of Charles like that, not when he's like this, drugged and dazed and still so unfairly gorgeous, even when he shouldn't be.

Charles' lips split in a soft smile, the same he'd get when Erik would press his lips to his temple or when he'd whisper to him _"liebling, ich finde dich schön, liebling, mein liebling."_

__

"I love you, you know." Charles says softly, pulling himself to his feet and stepping close enough that he has to tilt his chin to look at Erik, radiating warmth and his blue eyes sparkling.

(Later, much later, Charles will deny any of it ever happened, and Erik will grind his teeth together, turning away.)

Unsteadily, like Charles is too high or drunk or both to let the drugs that are supposed to stabilise him truly work, Charles wraps his fingers in Erik's shirt again, and tugs until their foreheads touch. Erik sighs softly, tries to pretend that this is his Charles, the Charles  from ten years ago that smiled and blushed and bumped their noses together when they kissed in this same plane back to America from Russia. And Erik knows he shouldn't let Charles kiss him, he knows Charles sober would shove this side down and wallow in it, but Erik can't help but press their mouths together, can't help but relish the little sigh that Charles breathes into his mouth. Charles pulls Erik in closer, as if they could become inseparable if Charles pulled Erik close enough. Erik's hands fall around Charles' hips, fingers spread wide like he's trying to hold all of Charles before they're ripped apart again. He can hear Charles sigh contentedly and feel him shift restlessly, and Erik pulls away before they go too far, before they do something that'll run through their minds on the nights where they make lists that are miles long of what they did wrong. The softest whine escapes Charles' throat and Erik swallows and presses a kiss to his temple.

_"Liebling, mein liebling, ich werde dich immer lieben, meine schöne liebling, mein schöner liebling."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> for alex, mein schoene liebling


End file.
